


Just in Case

by 655321



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Age Difference, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Finger Sucking, Infidelity, Older Man/Younger Woman, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 08:38:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/655321/pseuds/655321
Summary: Michael/Fem!Reader, Michael/YouJust smut, that's why I'm here.





	

Michael sat in a bar after not the first time getting yelled at and a dildo flung in his face by Amanda upon entering his own goddamn bedroom. That woman was unbelievable. So he didn't feel bad about being on his third drink. Honestly he wanted to go home and sleep and he was pissed feeling like an enemy in his own house.

There was a young woman staring at him from down the length of the bar; he kept stealing sideways glances at her. In equal parts he hoped that she would - and wouldn't - approach him. He wouldn't. Couldn't approach her no matter how much he wanted to or how much shit he had to take from his wife. He was out drinking and that was enough of a toe past the line for him. He had to be the good guy. 

He remembered, back when he and Amanda could still be called newlyweds, whenever either of them got tempted to be unfaithful, they would just call the other, meet up somewhere and work it out with a - usually hasty, usually semi-public romp. Hot, kinky. Demanding and giving; they wanted to be everything for each other. Whatever they’d wanted to do to that random stranger or casual acquaintance that got them hot; they would do it to each other. But, that couldn't last. That was a long time ago. Amanda wanted stability; they had kids, it was understandable. She found it very easy to change; leave the trash life behind. Michael never really did. He just covered it up.

You could see him glancing at you every once in awhile. He wasn't going to make any moves though, you could tell. You gulped down the last of your drink and told the bartender on your end (the bar was big enough here that they had two), “wish me luck!” She did just that, with a smile.

You walked along the bar to the older man and sat next to him, saying hi and introducing yourself. You managed to get him talking to you, and when you felt the time was right you complained that the bar was too loud or too stuffy and asked him to walk with you. He thought about it, but finally shrugged and said, “why not?”

-

You were drunk, and maybe reckless, but you liked this man. You liked how you could see his strength and danger being carefully controlled under his expensive and patient calm. Maybe it was crazy, maybe you'd regret it. But he was electric.  
You talked as you walked. You asked about him, but didn't tell him much about yourself. He was a movie producer, and yeah you rolled your eyes at first but then he started talking about how the industry didn't make movies like it used to. He was passionate about it. Films were supposed to be art, he said. He talked with his hands and you saw the flash of gold on his left. You probably wouldn't get another chance with him.  
You liked listening to him. His voice was turning you on. He should have been in movies instead of making them. He was certified silver fox, and that was kind of your thing. Older men tended to be interesting; men your own age tended to drag around bullshit wherever they went. At least that was your experience.  
“Hey, do you, maybe wanna grab a bite to eat?” You asked, after the conversation had drifted into a comfortable silence.  
His immediate response was no, you could tell, but he hesitated. He knew he should go home; stay out of trouble. But then the idea of another night of fitful sleep on the couch made him wince visibly. It was the couch because laying in bed with a wife who didn't care to touch him was torture.  
He sighed, but then smiled and said, “yeah. Sure.”

-

After some food and a few more drinks you were out on the sidewalk again. In Los Santos lights were always lit, and the streets were always busy no matter the hour.  
“Michael.”  
He looked at you, and you took his hand in one of yours and grabbed his lapel in the other, and guided him to a narrow alley between two buildings. He followed you, but once you were off the street and pulling him closer to your lips he started to protest.  
“No. No, hey, I really can't do this, I’m-”  
“You're married.”  
His left hand was in yours. Your thumbs rubbed his palm sensually, and you took the ring finger into your mouth and teased your tongue against the wedding band. His eyes were unfocused; he was trying to protest but seemed to be having a difficult time of it.  
“It's okay. It's not cheating if you don't get off. I just want you to get me off.”  
He let out a low chuckle. Obviously this wasn't true but you could see that he was into you and he looked like he might be susceptible to an excuse. You planted a chaste kiss on his jaw.  
“I won't tell,” you whispered, and led his hand to your thigh.  
There were sounds like little growls at the back of his throat. You knew you were putting him in a difficult position, and you felt bad about it but also it was really hot. You slid his hand under your dress and into your panties. You were a little surprised when he took over; his hand moving of its own volition once he felt how wet you were.  
“Fuck,” he whispered, next to your ear. “That's for me?”  
You melted at that; somehow he made it sound both innocent and devious. You bit your lip and nodded, responding only with “mmhmm.”  
His fingers teased your hole, collecting wetness and spreading it across your lips to your clit. There, he used two fingers to spread your labia and one to rub circles around your clit. Your eyelids dropped but you forced yourself to keep them open. You wanted to watch his face. He was biting his lip and huffing deep breaths through his nose, which you could feel against your collarbone. He was trying to keep quiet. You really wanted to hear him. You took advantage of the concentration he was giving you, and, with your hands on his neck, brought his lips to yours. As you kissed him and he let you, he eased one thick finger inside you. You each let out a moan.  
“This is bad, I shouldn't be doing this,” he muttered, his voice low, his breath on your neck making you shudder in pleasure.  
You moaned again, your breath hitching and your hips bucking slowly against his hand.  
“Just keep talking to me,” you whispered.  
“Fuck. You're gorgeous. Wish I could take you home with me.”  
Your hands were gripping his muscled arm as his fingers worked you. He had two fingers fucking you now and his thumb circling your clit, and he had you close. He could see you riding his hand toward a climax, and abruptly removed his hand from you. He brought it to his mouth to suck your juice from his fingers; silencing your whine as you watched him.  
“Michael, please,” you tugged gently at his suit jacket, trying to hold back just how needy you were.  
He kissed you, just below your ear.  
“Say that again.”  
“Please. Michael, please.”  
He dropped to one knee in the dirty alleyway and lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, pulling your panties off that leg as he did and leaving the fabric clinging to your other thigh. He took hold of your hips, angling you toward him. His tongue sank into your wet pussy and you couldn't help tangling your hands in his hair.  
“Yes! Oh, mmnn-” you bit your lip, trying to stay quiet.  
Michael's fingers were squeezing your thighs and ass while he worked his tongue along your slit. He sucked at your clit, flicked his tongue over it, then went to lap up the liquid pleasure his efforts produced. He kept you locked in this cycle of perpetual pleasure for long minutes, and you could feel him moaning against your sex. He really liked this. And fuck, he was good at it. His wife had to be fucking crazy. Then you laughed. Well, her loss.  
He brought his hand to you again, sliding two fingers inside you easily and letting you ride them to your own rhythm while he worked his tongue over your clit. Flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub quickly, he could still use his lips to produce an intense suction around the hood. This had you groaning; at once needing to voice your pleasure and keep it private. He slipped one more finger into you, his ring finger, and your pleasure soon exploded into a trembling climax. Michael didn't cease his work until he felt you ride out the orgasm. When you were ready to push him away, he was slowly pulling his fingers out of you. His tongue laving across your hole a few final times made you shudder as he cleaned you. He slid your panties back in place, and finally stood, cleaning your juice from his fingers again. When he was done, he kissed you. Tasting yourself in his mouth was starting to get you hot again.  
“Wow. You're amazing.” You couldn't help it.  
He chuckled, planting a kiss on your neck.  
“Thanks. I needed this.”  
You laughed. You hadn't done anything but want him. Then you felt sad as you realized that that was what he needed.  
“Can I see you again?” You knew you probably shouldn't ask, but what were you going to do, just walk away?  
“I shouldn't.” Obligatory answer. He was wearing a smirk, though, making him look like he could be swayed.  
“Can I just- give you my number? No pressure. Just...In case?”  
He smiled, seeing your eagerness.  
“Okay. Just in case.”


End file.
